Carols of the Bells
by romano for da win
Summary: Song-fic. Oliver and his travel to insanity, bells attacking his mind. Set in 1800's (I guess?). Told by Len.K, but you wouldn't know that unless I told you. By the way, I saw Steampianist's channel and I was like i should make a fic about it. So I did.


I was doing my assessment for History. Sorry for the wait. So, I was thinking 'should I update one of my fics?'

No.

Instead, I went and wrote something that tried to be sad. But it wasn't. My first

Song-fic, though. That's nice.

Me no own Vocaloid, or the song lyric, or wherever the song came from.. My guess, Home Alone.

The song's name is Carol of the Bells but u knw tht.

Carol of the Bells

_Hark! How the bells_

_Sweet silver bells_

_All seem to say,_

"_Throw cares away!"_

Oliver trudged through the damp, cold snow, his chains clanging together as he took his shaky steps. Not an hour ago was he and his mates playing about in the very same snow thy stood in now. The atmosphere had changed darkly. **'**_Isn't it funny,'_ Oliver thought,_' how quick one situation can flip into one completely new one'. _Oliver gave a little chuckle; earning himself a thump on the top of his head.

The day had only just started, and most of the city children had gathered to a huge mound of snow on one of the many streets of London. Giggles had been filling the streets, smiles plastered on the adults' faces as they observed their children.

It was Christmas, after all.

Christmas is here Bringing good cheer To young and old Meek and the bold,

The blond boy was stuttering some kind of cheerful song under his breath, just below whispering. Cheerful? Oliver was close to tears. But then again, so were all the children behind him. Some of them were still only around five. '_What a cruel fate to have'. _

It amazed Oliver how the strange man next to him did not hear him.

Maybe if he had been a good child, a better child, then his parents would not have sold him. Well, that is what the child was told. Oliver thought it more likely that they were forced into it, debts coming back to them. That way, he knew he wouldn't have been **abandoned. **Abandoned by the only people who truly loved him.

Oliver shook his head. No. _'Just calm down' _Oliver tried to force his tears back, though it proved useless. One, tiny little tear it didn't even matter, rolled down his face.

Ding, dong, ding, dong

_That is their song_

_With joyful ring_

_All carolling,_

Close by, he heard carollers. Oliver had remembered how much he despised carollers. He didn't even know why. Perhaps it was the way everyone _else _loved them, adored them, he didn't know.

The church bells rang, oh, how they rang. Deafening, really. What a bother. It isn't what you want to hear in the morning, is it? _'Just get rid of them, already,'_ Oliver practically begged inside his mind. Of course, no one could hear him.

One seems to hear

_Words of good cheer_

_From ev'rywhere_

_Filling the air._

Drunken men in bars were singing jolly songs, wasting all their money on pointless materials like alcohol. They were lucky they had money to pay for the expensive _shit_ they drink. Oliver's parents would give anything for it; even sell their only child.

_Oh, how they pound_

_Raising the sound_

_O'er hill and dale_

_Telling their tale_

One of the children at the back of the death march tried to escape. Stupid, really. But, to Oliver's surprise, he actually succeeded. Obviously, this child had been in good shape, otherwise he would not have been able to escape. Maybe he would tell their story to others. Perhaps he would get shot to death. Then he would have gotten nowhere. It didn't really matter though. Oliver was still stuck. All it did for him was create even tighter security.

Gaily they ring

_While people sing_

_Songs of good cheer_

Only a select few of the many people in the town bothered to take a glance at the slavers. Obviously, they were too wrapped up in their own stupid lives to care. _'Good,'_ thought Oliver,_ 'I don't need their help anyway…' _

Oliver started to chuckle. That turned into giggling. Then laughing. A mad mans laugh. The men were trying to hold him down. Restrain him somehow, but to no use. The headman of the slavers thought that Oliver was a lost cause. Insane, they say. Or, at least, I thought they did. I couldn't really hear properly. But what I did hear was the loud **bang **of one of the guns. I bit down a cry. I couldn't ruin my cover. My escape would have been for nothing.

Christmas is here

Merry Christmas, me?

OK, this is not my best work. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. Who knows? Still, it's a nice change from what I usually write, isn't it?

Also, the person telling the story, as you might have guessed, is the boy who escaped. It kind of changed. I wasn't planning on hat. Don't ask me why he knows what Oliver was thinking. I don't know, either. Goodbye, my friends.

If you want to listen to Oliver sing the song, here is the link to Steampianist's version, WHICH I DID NOT MAKE.

watch?v=6yjI3km9uUQ


End file.
